il me dit des mots d'amour
by hyacinthian
Summary: Flash Forward. They get it together years later. BeccaTucker.


They don't talk as much.

It is, of course, to be expected. The years pass by and they stay in touch, but it's a little more forced than it was in the eighth grade. But some things never change; she still has a new crush every few weeks and he's still an attention hound.

Over Thanksgiving break, they sit outside in the driveway, like they always used to. She sits with her knees up against her chest, telling him about her new boyfriend and how happy she is in her relationship and at school.

"I miss Christine," she says.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "Where is she? I haven't seen her around."

Becca sighs, smiling sadly. "I don't know. It's weird to think that the group is like splitting up, you know?"

"It'll be okay," he says.

"Tucker," she says, "You're a really good friend."

And he notices that weird tenseness in the air between them for a second, but then her dad is stepping out onto the porch and telling her that Dan is on the line, and her face lights up, and she runs inside with a mumbled goodbye.

Sitting outside, he leisurely dribbles a basketball, listening to the rhythmic beats of it hitting the pavement and he thinks, yeah, some things never change.

When he goes to attempt a free throw, he can't stop thinking about that time he kissed her once, prompted by the strategic planning of an overenthusiastic gym teacher. Eighth grade is a long time ago; their kindergarten kiss is to their eighth grade kiss what their eighth grade kiss is to now. It was eighth grade, it doesn't really count.

-

Between his coursework and the papers he has to bullshit for tomorrow's deadline, he does not expect Becca to call him up on a Wednesday night, drunk out of her mind. "Tucker," she says, slurring.

"Becca?"

"Tucker, I hate boys. So. Much."

He coughs out a laugh. "Where are you? Are you okay?" She goes to school about five hours from where he is, and he doesn't have a car on campus, so he doesn't really know what he'd do if he knew she needed his help, but he likes to know regardless.

"I'm fine," she says. "Jus' walkin' home."

"Will you at least stay on the phone with me so I know you're okay?"

"You're sweet," she says, with a soft laugh. "Not like _Dan_. You know what Dan did? Dan cheated on me. With a _blonde_!" She starts sniffling and then, before he knows what's going on, she's choking back sobs. "I mean, I know that I'm good enough, but really, I mean, what does she have that I don't have? I thought things were going so well and he was just sleeping around the whole fucking time." She sniffs. "Ugh, I'm over it. I'm over it."

It's silent for a while, and he can't really think of anything to say until:

"Hey, Becca, what's green and travels at 200 miles an hour?"

She doesn't say anything.

"A frog in a blender."

She laughs.

"Tucker, I'm home now, okay? I'm sorry to – "

"Don't worry about it."

"Bye."

The rest of the night, as he stares at the blinking cursor on the computer, he can't help but think of her.

-

Christmas and they both drink a little too much and sit outside in the cold, hoping for snow. Her face is pink and she's still got her bottle of orange juice and vodka, taking occasional swigs. He leans back against the garage door and she shuffles to sit next to him.

"You ever think we made a mistake?"

He turns to her, taking the bottle from her hand to steal a sip; their fingers brush. "What do you mean?"

"After the play," she says. "We didn't—"

"I was scared."

She looks at him then, hair cropped shorter than he used to have it in middle school, but with the same bright blue eyes. "Me too," she says. "I just thought that we were better as friends." She takes the bottle back.

"You were my best friend, Becca," he says. "I didn't want to lose you. Not when people like Jack Debbins were around."

She snorts. "I still can't believe we used to think he was the worst person in the world."

"High school," he says. "It's a different place."

She looks at him. "Maybe we – maybe we could try again?"

"Becca?"

"The kiss. We're older. More mature. I mean, and you're not wearing tights."

"No," he deadpans, "I have them on just under my—"

"Be serious," she says, giggling. "Just a kiss."

"Becca, I don't think this is a good idea."

She leans closer, ignoring him, and smiles. "It could be your Christmas present to me," she whispers.

"I already bought you something."

And it doesn't matter anyway because Becca wants this, and now she's touching her lips to his, and it feels like the play again, like eighth grade, like he's frozen and he doesn't know what to do. Except she's right. They are older. And more mature. And if nothing else, he at least knows what to do when he kisses a girl.

She deepens the kiss and shifts closer, and this is just how he remembered, this is just everything – he can smell her shampoo, the soap she uses – and he can't help but go with it. He wraps an arm around her and she scrambles half on top of him, moaning into his mouth.

When she pulls away, his eyes are closed. "Tucker?"

She's on top of him. She's on _top _of him and she's not moving and it's winter and snowing and they're both more than a little drunk and all of this is spelling out that this is not a good idea. Except he, who is like master of the bad decision, can't help but think that it _is _a good idea and Becca's here and it feels good and he's always been a hedonist, so why the hell not?

She rolls her hips purposefully and he exhales. Leaning her head down, her lips brush the shell of his ear. "Maybe we could go somewhere?"

They sleep together.

It's his old room; the bed is small and they're trying to be quiet, and all in all, not the best experience.

In the morning, when Becca's sitting at breakfast, Horace keeps shooting them these looks that make eating just awkward.

They don't really talk about it after, don't really formally discuss the consequences, issues, whatever. It's weird for Becca not to want to neurotically pro-and-con-list the thing to death, but he'll go with it.

It's one of those things where it's a relationship but not a relationship; they sort of stumble into it. She comes to see him or they meet up at someplace equally distant for both of them and just…hang out. He talks to Miles about it sometimes, and Miles just doesn't really care; he's forging ahead in the brand new field of computer programming, and this whole Becca-and-Tucker thing has been going on since before middle school.

It's like eight months later when Miles brings up that Becca has a spare toothbrush at his place that he thinks, okay, yeah, maybe it's time to break out the labels.

It's on the eve of their birthday, when they're exchanging presents, when he tells her he loves her.

She smiles and kisses him. "Took you long enough."


End file.
